Soft Beneath My Hands
by batfacedgirl
Summary: In the Mirror Universe, Earth and Vulcan are at war.  After defeating the Enterprise in battle, Sarek claims Kirk as a personal slave.  Companion piece to my story "Of Great Price".  One-shot.  Warnings: slavery, dub-con, breathplay.


**A/N: Written as a companion piece to my story "Of Great Price". It can be read as a stand alone but will probably be easier to follow if you've read the other story first. **

**Paramount owns Star Trek, just like they have for the last fifty or so years.**

* * *

There were moments, reckless, dangerous moments that he carefully isolated and placed in the deepest recesses of his mind, when Sarek of Vulcan let himself indulge in what could only be classified as whimsy. In these impetuous moments, he would allow himself to wonder, to question his choices, his traditions, his way of life. He would allow himself to rate the merit of all that was considered Vulcan, and he would allow himself to find it lacking. These moments were rare and fleeting, but their frequency was increasing with the years. In fact, honesty would force him to admit that they became more and more common with each year of his son's life, for inevitably, as Spock matured and fought and won his place in the clan, the attacks on his human heritage became harsher and more frequent. Sarek believed in Vulcan, believed in his clan and their honored tradition. It was the future that gave him pause, their stubborn need to cling to those codes religiously, their lack of foresight in a changing universe. Vulcan's were secure in their superiority. They lorded it over other sentients, humans most of all, without ever considering the possibly destructive long-term ramifications of such actions.

Sarek was angered by their arrogance, by their refusal to see the value in other races. His son, his treasured son, was half-human, but unlike his clansmen, Sarek viewed this as a strength. They continually underestimated Spock, and their false sense of superiority was a weak point he could use against them. This morning's events were a prime example; a simple and untested clansmen, boldly secure in his pure blood, had foolishly attempted to challenge his son for possession of his Terran doctor. It had proved to be a poor decision by the nameless, faceless cur, left bleeding, broken, and shorn by Spock in the dirt of the challenge ground.

It had been a delicate situation. Spock was exceptionally possessive of his _kafeh_, a beautiful and brilliant human who had sparked the interest of much of the clan during his daily rounds as a healer to the Terran slave community. Spock was well-schooled in Vulcan customs and traditions and knew well the insult his clansman had laid upon him today; he had come quite close to taking the challenger's life. Sarek could understand his son's actions, but the pure-blooded Vulcan clan was another matter. Such a punishment was reserved only for a challenge for a mate, and Sarek had been forced to intervene before his son allowed his emotions to cloud his judgment. He was not unsympathetic. Spock's real anger hadn't been for the inconsequential being who had challenged him but for his human who had foolishly placed himself in harm's way. Sarek found the fact that Spock held higher expectations for his Terran slave then his own clansmen vastly amusing. He had often experienced similar opinions himself.

It was in this vein of thought that he found himself standing before a table in his room, the chamber doors thrown open as the sun dipped below the horizon. The rapidly cooling night air drifted into the far reaches of the room, driving out the heat of the day. It also had the pleasing effect of sending delicate shivers up the golden flesh of the Terran slave who lay bound and exposed on the table before him.

Looking down, Sarek admired his possession, gently stroking a hand against the human's cheek. His _kafeh_ leaned into the warmth of his touch, clinging to the slight relief from the chill. The extract of the plah-sai plant that Sarek had applied that morning had absorbed into his human's skin, the affects dampening but still apparent in the cool air. He had held his _kafeh_ on the precipice of sexual release for hours, bound hand and foot by Sarek's mental controls as he writhed helplessly beneath the fingered breeze of a hot afternoon. Letting his hands work down his slave's body, he palmed the throbbing length of the human's shaft, pulsing and pink against the olive hue of his own skin. His thumb circled the sensitive head and his human inhaled sharply, quick pants leaking between his lips as he writhed against his bonds. Sarek smiled. He had inflicted his exquisite torture on his _kafeh_ for long enough. Stroking a single finger lightly over the weeping slit, he pressed carefully into the human's mind and ordered, "_Climax, Kafeh. Now."_

The response was exceptional; the force of the release ripped through his _kafeh's _mind and body, arching him up off the table as he pulled and fought frantically against the invisible bonds at his wrists and ankles. His mouth was thrown open in a raw, desperate gasp of relief as streaks of ivory seed spattered across his stomach and chest. Sarek eyed the body before him, recording each subtle, fascinating detail of the human's response; the strained cording in his neck, the beautiful accentuation of muscle beneath skin in his pleasure-tensed thighs, the tight curl of his fingers and toes.

It lasted sixteen point seven seconds, each one decadent in its own right, and Sarek enjoyed each one. A lone finger toyed with the human's left nipple, gliding lightly through the droplets of seed that glistened in the soft light. Drawing his hand up to his _kafeh's _mouth, Sarek nudged gently at the plush lower lip, reveling in the creature's obedience as he carefully licked his own essence off his _Trensu's_ fingers. Sarek felt his own quickening, his own heated response as his human's tongue worked feverishly over his sensitive hand and the corners of his lips curled up. He had questions to ask of his possession this night and he envisioned an enjoyable interrogation indeed.

Leaning down, he let his lips and breathe ghost delicately over the human's ear.

"Released."

Like any loving father, Sarek believed in bestowing the sage wisdom of his own victories and failings on his son, training the young Vulcan through his own considerable experience. Sarek was no novice in the ways of owning and commanding a human _kafeh_ and when his son had acquired his beautiful doctor, Sarek had shared one piece of invaluable advice. He had told Spock to search his slave's mind, to find the driving trait of his personality that could be used to bend him to Spock's will. Sarek spoke with well-tested authority. His relationship with Amanda, the graceful human who had born him his child, had been guided by the woman's instinctual need to teach and nurture those around her. He had indulged this need, giving her access to the Terran orphans of the clan and allowing her to teach household skills to the slaves. These privileges had given her a sense of purpose she was reluctant to risk, and it had secured her good behavior. The birth of their child had merely cemented an existent obedience.

Sarek had mourned the loss of Amanda. His grief had been silent but genuine, and he had generally avoided the clan's human chattel, expelling his anger and pain in conquest. He had passed years with his mind focused intently on the destruction of the Terran's foolish and weak _Empire_, and he had anticipated that such would be the remainder of his life.

Then came the unexpected engagement with the Empire's ship and his subsequent contact with their beautifully furious, rebellious captain.

He could still remember the wrath that had burned from those blue eyes just before he slammed the human down into his own command chair and backhanded him into unconsciousness. A nerve pinch would have been sufficient, but not nearly as strong a message to a command crew that needed to be cowed. He remembered the contrast of fragility and strength he'd felt beneath his hands as he lifted the limp, lolling human over his shoulder. His skin had burned and his blood had leaped with primitive possessiveness.

No other being had laid a hand on James Kirk since.

It had not been his intention to find a human conquest to claim as _kafeh_ that night, but as he strode through the corridors of the beaten ship with Kirk's unconscious form dangling in his arms, he took stock of the information he had on the young Terran. His actions in battle had shown him to be brave, brilliant, daring, and reckless and Sarek was forced to admit his intrigue. And when he flung the human down before the captive audience of his imprisoned crew and began to savagely despoil him, the sheer, desperate horror written across their faces told the Vulcan that Kirk was a leader who inspired loyalty and devotion.

The foolish rescue effort by his son's doctor had proved as much.

He had gleaned a trove of information about his human from external sources but the true windfall had been his breach of the man's exceptional mind. How Kirk had fought him, even as his body surrendered to Sarek's cruel ministrations. The human had pulled from powerful reserves to protect himself, but Sarek of Vulcan was a telepath of exceptional talent, and he had eventually left the human's shields in tatters as he ravaged the delicious depths of his mind.

Despite his defeat, his _kafeh_ had stubbornly continued to fight him, as would any human of merit, in Sarek's assessment. But like all humans, Kirk had weaknesses that could be used to control him. His loyalty to his crew and his overactive human libido were vulnerabilities, but neither had proved as useful as the Terran's exceptional skills as a tactician. Kirk's well-honed mind thirsted to scheme and strategize. Upon their return to Vulcan, Sarek continued to keep his prize imprisoned in his bed, but he began to leave PADDs with maps, reports, and documents within a reachable distance. His human was simply incapable of sitting idle, and he quickly began devouring the information with a voracious appetite. Sarek would question him coyly about the content, holding him astride his body and denying him release until Kirk had given him all the answers he desired. His human was no fool and he quickly mastered the rules of the game. And thus Sarek gained a compliant and enthusiastic, if not willing, bedmate and a brilliant, if enslaved, advisor.

They dined with the clan that night; Sarek reclining in the seat of honor reserved for clan leader, his slave kneeling lightly beside him. In light of the day's events, it would not do to be absent. He needed to be seen, to lord his presence over the upstarts who would challenge his line. The minutes were long, though, keeping him from more enjoyable activities, and he schooled his features into cold disdain to show his displeasure. His clan was silent, momentarily subdued beneath the strength of his blood, and their supplication gave him some satisfaction.

He departed abruptly, sweeping past his clansmen as his _kafeh_ trailed behind. Let them consider the ramifications of his anger. He had no more time this evening to suffer fools and fools they were if they continued to seek to supplant his son. Tonight, he had more pressing concerns and interesting plans to indulge.

He bathed quickly and donned a comfortable meditation robe before seating himself at his desk. Across the room, his slave had retreated to the pile of ancient, leather-bound books that Sarek had gifted to him over the years. The human appeared to be engrossed in his reading material, but Sarek's keen eyes saw the tense grip in his hands. His _kafeh _was waiting and he would not keep him waiting long. Laying aside a PADD, he reclined back in his chair.

"The night is chilly, _Kafeh. _Warm me."

His human's response was immediate. His clothing slid from his body in an enticing fashion as he strode across the length of Sarek's chamber. Kirk had long ago learned that Sarek enjoyed his attempts at seduction and he employed his skills liberally. Sinking gracefully to his knees before his master, the human worked open the delicate clasps of Sarek's robes, parting the material and letting it cascade over the sides of the chairs. Reaching down, Sarek grasped the slave's chin in one hand, pulling him up and around to sprawl across his master's lap. His _kafeh_ was well trained and offered no resistance, simply leaning back and melting into the hot, bare skin of Sarek's torso. He did not struggle, did not even tense as his master's hands ran over his chest and up his throat to settle on the meldpoints and push deeply into his mind.

"_To whom do you belong, Kafeh?"_

There was a tang of bitterness in his slave's voice as he answered, "_You, Trensu. I belong to you._"

"_Indeed."_

He pressed in further, mental fingers running along the length of their bond. Against his chest, the human went limp, the natural tension bleeding out of his body as Sarek seized complete control. He could feel the human's deeply buried humiliation and rage, but it was tempered and checked, and for that he commended his pet. It was difficult for humans to master their emotions, but after only two years, Kirk was showing considerable progress, especially in light of this indignity. His slave hated this, hated the sense of vulnerability that came when Sarek took total command of his body. He could not fight, could not move, could not even breath unless his _trensu_ allowed it. At the moment, all he could do was lie helplessly in his master's arms.

Sarek's movements were leisurely and relaxed, his hands skimming lightly over the human's skin as he contemplated his plan. The events on the challenge ground today had confirmed his suspicions and he was in need of answers, but while he could simply scan through his human's thoughts until he found what he sought, there were much more enjoyable methods to extract information.

He skimmed a finger over the human's shoulder. _"Lean forward, Kafeh. Brace your hands on my desk."_

The human's compliance was immediate and Sarek admired the lean, elegant lines of Kirk's back as he took up the warming salve he kept nearby and began to stroke the length of his shaft. He toyed with the human's flanks, causing minute tremors in the soft skin as he carefully worked his long, oiled fingers inside Kirk's body. Releasing his hold on the human's mind ever so slightly, he enjoyed the hardening grip of the slave's hands on his desk and the delicious tremble that crept into the firm thighs as the human struggled to maintain his position. He heard the gentle hiss of breath from between the human's teeth as he withdrew his hand and grasped both hips firmly, probing the opening with the smooth head of his shaft.

"_Seat yourself, Kafeh,"_ he ordered, _"Take me inside of you."_

Thin stabs of pain forged along the length of their bond as his human pushed back, impaling himself sharply and fully on Sarek's length, but his slave showed no hesitation. He drove himself down fully until the warm globes of his ass brushed against the soft hair that dusted Sarek's abdomen. Curling a hand firmly around Kirk's left shoulder, he held the human immobile while his remaining fingers drifted over the elegant, tense back muscles. He could feel the shudders that wracked the human's body as his nerves were driven to arousal but left unfulfilled and his head nodded in satisfaction. The human would give him his answers.

Skimming both his hands down the skin of his possession, Sarek let them rest lightly on Kirk's hips. Leaning back languidly in his own chair, he sent a sharp command across the bond.

"_Ride me, Kafeh, and do not be gentle."_

His human was an excellent student and had quickly learned to school his reactions, but the faintest taste of anxiety and indignation flitted across their link as his body began to move. Drawing slow circles around smooth hipbones, Sarek basked in the man's mental state. His _kafeh _was nervous and off-balance, fearful of what his master sought from him. Not for himself, of course. Sarek knew Kirk's courage, knew he would never retreat from a challenge were it only himself at risk, but Kirk was aware of the day's events and the pivotal role his former shipmate had played in the combat involving his _trensu's_ son. It would not have taken that highly analytical mind long to interpret Sarek's intentions.

The human was driving warm, heady sensations through his body, designed to arouse, entice, and hopefully distract and though Kirk and Sarek both knew the futility of the human's efforts, the Vulcan found he could still respect them. Kirk loved his crew. He would use whatever lay at his disposal, even his own body, if he felt it would draw dangerous attention away from them. That body, however, was human, weak, and treacherous. Sarek could feel his _kafeh's_ intense arousal coursing through their link, his quick mind stuttering under the intoxication of his own visceral need. His defenses were crumbling, his body desperate as it rutted furiously along the length of his master's shaft.

He was ready.

Tightening his hold on Kirk's hips, Sarek jerked back, pinning him to his lap. A deep, frustrated growl echoed from the human's chest as he squirmed and pulled against his master's hands, but Sarek held him firm. With a snap of his hips, he thrust up once into the immobile body, tearing a gasp from the human, who tensed instinctively in his arms, waiting for the inevitable question.

"_Are you aroused, Kafeh?" _The Vulcan asked, his tone even and indifferent as he pressed into the human's tight, pliant depths. An involuntary shudder ran down the length of Kirk's spine and his fury and fear intermingled deliciously as it flowed across the bond. He nodded his head, hands clinging to the desk as he fought down the need to beg for release. Beneath him, Sarek only smiled.

"_Brace your feet, Kafeh." _He instructed in the same calm, unaffected voice_, "I wish you to hold onto to my desk and push yourself up very slowly. When I tell you to halt, you will stop immediately. Are my instructions clear?"_

Another stiff nod was his only answer, and Sarek could sense his human's resignation as he slowly braced his feet. Up he rose, releasing inch after inch of his master's shaft, his motions controlled and deliberate even as his brain rebelled. He clung desperately to the desk as if it would offer some comfort and gripped it even tighter when Sarek grasped his thigh and whispered a commanding, "Halt."

It was a difficult position for the human to hold, with his legs spread wide and his knees bent and trembling, but he stopped immediately, the head of Sarek's erection still snug within his body. The shivering in his flanks increased with each second, but the human held his tongue and waited. He knew what to expect, knew what he would have to give if he was to receive relief. Sarek allowed himself the indulgence of satisfaction. He had trained his possession well.

Reaching out, he used his hands to spread open the human's firm cheeks, running a thumb around the head of his erection where it impaled the slave's body. Kirk jumped reflexively at the sensation and Sarek slapped him smartly across the swell of his buttocks.

"_Kafeh,"_ he murmured menacingly in the human's mind, "_You will endure this. You will not move. Is that understood?"_

Another sharp nod of the head. He slapped the human's ass again, leaving parallel red streaks on the pale skin. "_You will speak to me, Kafeh."_

"_Alright!," _the human bit out, his anger flowing freely, "_I won't move."_

Sarek nodded, "_Excellent, Kafeh. So we will begin."_

His feet were already on the floor but he spread them further, forcing Kirk to widen his already uncomfortable stance. Grabbing the arms of his chair, he pushed up slowly, thrusting his hips up inch by inch, spearing Kirk's body with a slow, deep thrust while the human gasped and fought to remain still. Farther and farther he went, pushing against Kirk's resistant flesh, spreading him open until the heavy weight of his sac finally brushed the human's skin and he could go no further. With a gentle roll of his hips, he pulled out at the same languid pace, taking inch by inch of delicious stimulation back from the human, who could only moan and lament the withdrawal. All the way out he retreated until the human was once again emptied of his length.

Over and over, Sarek entered his human with slow, deep, rolling strokes that ignited every nerve in the slave's body. Kirk was keening in the back of his throat, his legs on fire with the effort of maintaining his awkward squat, and his hands were bruising from their grip on the desk. With a final thrust, Sarek stroked a hand over the human's back casually, pulling back out and leaving the head of his erection teasing Kirk's entrance.

"_Now, Kafeh. Who is this man, Leonard McCoy?"_

He saw the muscles in Kirk's legs stiffen, saw the trembling subside as new anger and determination gave the human strength. With a smile, Sarek pushed back up into the pliant body and Kirk bit down a groan.

"_Do not make this more difficult for yourself than it has to be, my Kafeh. My superior strength guarantees my success. You _will_ tell me what I wish to know, either now, or hours from now when I ring it from your exhausted mind."_

Kirk turned his head, a grimace written across his face. _"Why do you want to know about McCoy?" _he snapped.

Sarek nodded, "_It is a fair question, and one I am willing to answer to an extent. He is, after all, a former shipmate of yours."_

"_He was more than my shipmate." _Kirk snarled, his voice shaky even within Sarek's mind, "_He was my best friend."_

"_Ah,"_ Sarek breathed, "_You see. It is not so difficult to give me compliance."_ Kirk gave an angry snort, but the Vulcan ignored it as he continued to thrust slowly within the human. "_The human concept of friendship implies a great many things, my Kafeh. Respect, trust, intimacy. And the human emotion of love, if I am correct. Your use of the adjective 'best' would suggest to me that you and McCoy shared these traits more deeply than is typical even among your highly emotional race. Is this a correct assessment?"_

He could feel the heat of Kirk's anger even as it ran over his body in a red flush. _"McCoy was my best friend. Yes I love him, yes, I respect him. Yes, I would do anything to protect him." _The human's trembling grew stronger, panic and fury supplanting the lust. "_Look, I know I'm going to lose here. You'll get whatever the hell you want, but I'm begging you, please, don't play with me. Not about this. Not about him."_

Sarek's eyes narrowed and his leisurely motions stilled. "_Were you lovers?" _he demanded.

Kirk exhaled sharply, his forehead dropping heavily to the desk. "_No,"_ he murmured, his voice quiet in Sarek's mind, "_No, we weren't. There was…there was something between us, but it just manifested itself into a fraternal thing. We watched each other's backs, no matter what. I don't know what would've happened if you all hadn't…well, if you hadn't happened, but that doesn't matter. We never slept together, okay. We never really even came close."_

The human's voice sounded strangely heavy, laden with emotions, but Sarek took ease in what he was hearing. Kirk feared that he saw McCoy as a rival, a foolish concern as the bonds of _kafeh_ would prevent any liaison. No, Sarek sought answers for another reason, and he easily recognized that his human would give him the information he craved if he only made him feel secure in his friend's safety. An illogical and unyielding need to sooth his _kafeh's _mind infused the Vulcan, and he found himself drawing the human back down his length, pulling him to sit in his lap and sprawl back against his chest. Kirk did not fight, his actions willing but wary as he settled against his _trensu's _warm skin, tiny gasps escaping from his lips at the depth of Sarek's penetration.

The human's hands clung to the arms of the chair, and Sarek could feel him willing himself to stay still, not to yell, or fight, or fuck himself mad on his master's shaft. He lay still and quiet, and Sarek stroked his hands over the warm abdomen and chest, giving what comfort he could.

"_My Kafeh," _he whispered quietly in the depths of Kirk's mind, "_I acknowledge the love you bear your friend. I will not toy with you regarding him, but in exchange, I demand honesty on your part."_

The human's face was hard. "_You still haven't told me why you want to know about him?"_

"_You are correct," _the Vulcan agreed, his hands still running gently across the rose-hued skin. _"I mean your friend no harm. However, in light of the events of today, I am forced to consider possible outcomes. As a human, prone to emotionality, what would you assume lies at the root of my son's behavior today?"_

Kirk sighed, squirming on the hot length of the flesh in his body as he tried to consider the riddle. "_Honestly, if your son was human, I'd think he was in love. He was way more pissed at McCoy than he was at that idiot that tried to challenge him. I think he was actually disappointed."_ With a start, Kirk spun his head around to meet Sarek's eyes. "Oh, my God. That's what you think too, isn't it?With a twist, Kirk managed to yank himself away from Sark's roaming hands, twisting himself up and out of the Vulcan's lap as he begged, "Please, it isn't McCoy's fault. He's a good man. Please don't do anything to him. I know Vulcan's aren't supposed to love but…"

The babbling tirade was cut off succinctly by the quick movement of Sarek's hands, seizing the human roughly about the waist and slamming him back down in his lap. Kirk choked on a deep, gasping moan as thick ropes of pleasure assaulted his nerves. He fell back limply against the body behind him, writhing as Sarek pressed his hips lightly against him.

"_Kafeh, you will stay here until I give you leave to move." _He hissed furiously across their bond. "_Is that clear?"_

The human nodded weakly against his shoulder, his eyes fluttering erratically as gasps whispered between his teeth. Holding the human's hips firmly, Sarek increased the tempo of his rolling plunges, keeping his withdrawal short and his thrusts sharp and deep. His hand found the human's leaking erection and stroked it steadily, holding him in a state of arousal but offering no relief.

"_I have no intention of hurting your friend," _he continued as a thin sheen of sweat broke out over the human's skin, "_and I blame him for nothing. You are acting under the assumption that I consider our good doctor to be unworthy of my son. I, however, am not in the habit of making unmerited judgments. Hence my questions." _With a sure hand, he squeezed the base of the human's erection, allowing the full length of it to jut and bob above the man's stomach with his every breath. _"Kafeh, you have told me that you loved this man, that you respected him and trusted him. Tell me this. Is he loyal, Kafeh, and brave? In the face of danger, would he stand strong at another's side?"_

The human's breaths were erratic and hoarse, his body aflame with need, but he fought for his voice, "_He is the bravest man I know,"_ he snapped, "_he is loyal to a fault and if anyone, man or Vulcan, were to earn his love and respect, then he'd stand by them fearlessly in the face of certain death, never mind the danger."_ A particularly deep thrust threw him from his tirade, but he quickly found his voice again. "_McCoy would be worthy of anybody, okay. To you, he's just a goddamned slave, but to me he's the best friend I ever had. And if you can't see that then…"_

A warm hand flew up and brushed the human's cheek, rendering him silent as the powerful Vulcan body beneath him began to thrust more forcefully. His thoughts stuttered and stopped as tendrils of hot pleasure curled even tighter through his body. Sarek smiled as the human gave up, his head falling back against the warm shoulder behind him. The Vulcan's thrusts were firm but measured as he spoke gently across their bond.

"_Peace, Kafeh. You have done well. You have given me the information I need, and you have my assurance that not harm shall befall your friend by my hand. Now, you are in need, are you not? Tell me what you desire?"_

Rasping moans were pouring from the human's mouth as he wrenched his head from side to side and clawed at the chair arms. A thin, frantic voice echoed in Sarek's mind, one word in repetitive beats, over and over again.

"_Please!"_

He smiled. _"You want to be pleased, Kafeh? You are fortunate today that I wish to be accommodating."_

Sarek's movements were quick, seizing his slave about the waist and sprawling him prostrate across his desk. The human's hands clawed for purchase as he cried out in protest of his master's unceremonious withdrawal, but his frustrated yowls ceased as Sarek clasped his thighs and impaled him to the hilt. He was hard and unrelenting and the human's voice nearly broke, shrieking and wailing, his nails digging into the hardwood top of the desk as he pushed back, trying to draw his master in deeper. Pinning the fragile body beneath him, Sarek leaned in, hovering so close that the heat of his body nearly seared the human's back. Grasping a handful of golden hair, he drew his _kafeh's _head back and whispered audibly in his ear.

"Do you wish it?"

His human's head nodded in his hands.

"You must say it, _kafeh._ You must admit it aloud."

A bolt of shame raced up their bond, but it was of no consequence. His slave was far too aroused to give in to forgone notions of propriety. He drew a sharp breath, his face contorting, as he breathed out a panting, "Please. I want it. Please do it."

Tightening his hold on Kirk's hair, Sarek thrust once, forceful and unyielding. Reaching up, he separated a thick handful of his own ebony locks, pulling it taught as he drew it down to his ensnared possession. With a sure hand, he looped the length of hair gently around the delicate column of his _kafeh's _throat, grasping both ends of the strand in a single hand.

The first pull was light, careful, and he felt the tension as his human leaned into the makeshift noose, desperate for more pressure. Sarek would not be hurried, though, and he tightened his hold gradually, keeping his accompanying strokes shallow and teasing. Beneath him, his _kafeh_ moaned and scrabbled against the surface, his body pulsing steadily with need. Sarek smiled.

And thrust in hard.

A keen of satisfaction choked its way out of his slave as he pummeled the soft body into the surface of his desk. His right hand slapped down on the small of Kirk's back, pinning him securely, while his left used the length of hair to pull the human's back into an enticing arch. He could hear the thoughts in his possession's mind, could hear him begging for more as Sarek handed himself over to his own baser instincts. He could feel Kirk's mind devolving under the onslaught, conscious thought giving way before the two primal demands of release and respiration. The human's movements were becoming limp and sluggish as he gasped against the ligature but Sarek could still feel his need as it sizzled across their bond to blend in sharp, electric sparks with the hot, tight pleasure coiling in his own stomach.

He was nearing his own completion, the intoxicating bliss of his _kafeh's_ body drawing him to an inevitable fall, but he schooled his reactions by the barest degree, holding on to the final precipice as he drove himself harder and harder into the unresisting body beneath, pushing all of his building pleasure across the bond and shoving Kirk forcefully into his own abyss.

The human's climax was all-encompassing, ricochets of pure, white heat shooting through every nerve-ending the man possessed. His lolling, weakened body came alive, the muscles tensing from fingertips to toes as his body lurched with each spasm of his release. The sensations raced up the bond, flowing over Sarek like a deluge of hot silk and he felt his own seed pour into the exhausted body beneath him as he rode out his own thundering crest. It was timeless, sweet ecstasy and for a moment he knew nothing but the pure simplicity of satiation.

With an uncharacteristic shudder, Sarek allowed himself to melt into the warm, moist skin of his _kafeh's _back as his arms fell slack and slid to flank the cooler body beneath him. His human was dragging in huge breaths of air, his body still shivering and spent. He felt good beneath him, soft and solid and pleasant against his skin, and Sarek allowed himself to indulge the sensation. He was a Vulcan, and he recognized his races superiority in many things, but no race he'd encountered could rival the Terrans in the output of pure passion.

It took him several minutes to recover enough to push himself to his feet. Shucking off his soiled robe, he let it fall to the ground as he drew his human's body up and into his arms. Kirk stirred, wrapping an arm loosely around his neck as he gently deposited him in their bed. His _kafeh_ was placid and drowsy as he slid in beside him and sprawled him loosely over his chest. The human's fingers brushed idly through the soft coils of hair on his chest as his thoughts drifted away.

In his mind, Sarek smiled, contented.

"_Are you satisfied, Kafeh?"_

He felt the nod of the human's head against his chest. _"Yes, Trensu. Are you?"_

A low chuckle threatened but Sarek held his reaction in check. _"Such concern for your master. I am well sated, Kafeh, as I am sure you can sense."_

Beneath his hands, Kirk bristled slightly, a bolt of stubborn indignation shooting across the bond. _"I only wanted to make sure you were happy, Trensu. You know I always try to do my best."_ There was a hint of challenge in the tone that pleased the Vulcan. No matter his circumstances, his beautiful, bold _kafeh_ remained unbroken. Running a hand lightly over the human's skin, Sarek pressed a kiss to Kirk's brow. _"My Kafeh,"_ he whispered indulgently across the bond, _"You will make yourself mad with all this incessant emotionalism. You are exhausted. Rest."_

The last word carried a powerful suggestion to the weary human and whatever rebellion he planned to muster died off in his mind as he trickled into slumber against Sarek's chest. Holding him close, his master stroked a hand in methodical circles over the cool skin of his back and was content.

Sarek did not believe in the concepts of destiny or fate, but he willingly acknowledged his own good fortune. He had been blessed with eyes that saw and a mind that grasped the true worth in a supposedly crude, lesser race. This simple insight had allowed him to enjoy true companionship with compatible minds. There were times when he wondered if the _kafeh_ relationship was Vulcan's darkest secret, for surely he could not be the only one who valued his human so.

His son certainly understood their merit. In fact, if Sarek knew his child as well as he believed, then Spock's feelings toward his doctor would transcend even the blatant revolution he himself perpetrated when he mated with a Terran. Deep in his mind, Sarek was convinced his son recognized in this McCoy a worthy mate, one to be claimed in the ancient ways, fully and equally. Such a thing would be a violation, an anathema to their age-old traditions, but though his role as father and clan leader deemed he must oppose such a union, Sarek could not help but hope for it.

What life could his son have here? One of constant struggle, constant threat of attack and death. His strength and Vulcan integrity only served to make him more of a target for the small-minded clansmen who would seek to overthrow him. Sarek was the leader of his clan, and custom demanded his son succeed him if able in body and mind, but where his son was concerned, his way often seemed uncertain. His wanted his child to live a life of fulfillment and peace, and the chances were slim in this world. If he were to take his doctor and flee to the far reaches of the universe, though, the possibilities would be endless.

Turning his head, he gazed evenly at the sated, sleeping human who nestled against his chest. Spock would flee; he must, for while Sarek could never choose to do so himself, it would bring him vicarious satisfaction and a fitting end to his life. It would be impossible to hold his seat if Spock were to run. The clan would rise up in unison to secure his removal, but he counted it a fair price for his child's, Amanda's child's life.

There would be only one condition. They would not leave his _kafeh _to be a prize to his successor. They would take Jim Kirk with them and fling him back out into the vast pontential of space. A small thing, but Sarek suspected the ripples of such a cast stone might be infinite.

The human sighed against his skin and Sarek gently stroked an errant blond lock. "_What could come_," he wondered as he drifted off to sleep, "_of these three set loose on the universe?"_


End file.
